


Winter Warmth

by ragingrainbow



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Based on a Tumblr Post, Cold Weather, Fluff, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 20:06:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19383784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ragingrainbow/pseuds/ragingrainbow
Summary: Crowley shivers again. This time, Aziraphale turns to him.“Are you cold, dear?” His tone is a mix of confusion and worry.





	Winter Warmth

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by [my own Tumblr post](https://ragingrainbow.tumblr.com/post/185885006307/ragingrainbow-okay-but-this-bts-photo-it-makes) because my brain wouldn't leave the idea alone. 
> 
> I'm working on longer and more fleshed-out fic for this fandom but I thought I'd share this for now. It's just some self-indulgent fluff really.

London is covered by a white shroud. St James’ Park is uncharacteristically still; quiet apart from the sound of snow crunching under their feet.    
  
Crowley shivers. The past week has been particularly cold - temperatures dropping below what is usual for England - and he feels chilled even though he shouldn’t. Perhaps he’s just had this body for so long that it’s picking up human quirks, or perhaps it’s the snake in him longing to curl up on a warm rock. He supposes it might be the latter, since Aziraphale seems completely unbothered by the cold. He’s not even wearing gloves. (Crowley has a pair of black leather gloves that he normally wears just because they’re cool, but now they actually serve a function, too.)   
  
Crowley shivers again. This time, Aziraphale turns to him.    
  
“Are you cold, dear?” His tone is a mix of confusion and worry.    
  
“Demons don’t get cold, angel,” Crowley deflects. It’s not a lie - he’d never lie to Aziraphale - demons are not supposed to be bothered by the weather. The fact that the chill has bothered him for days now is… well, it’s  _ embarrassing _ .    
  
He gives the ruse away by rubbing his gloved hands together moments later. Aziraphale shoots him a knowing look.    
  
Next thing he knows, he’s wearing a big fluffy jacket, and Aziraphale is wearing a self-satisfied smile.    
  
Crowley splutters. He means to tell Aziraphale to undo it, but warmth is already spreading through his body. It stirs a memory of wings shielding him from the rain.    
  
“It’s  _ beige _ ,” he protests, in an attempt to keep his dignity.    
  
Aziraphale gives him an amiable smile. “You know how I am with fashion. You can change it if you like.”    
  
He could. He doesn’t.    
  
The jacket keeps him warm for the rest of the winter. Even though he has to put up with Aziraphale looking smug every time they meet.    
  
  



End file.
